𝒜ᴍʙʀᴏsᴇ 𝒮ɪɴᴄʟᴀɪʀ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
immortalized) wrote2018-01-26 06:24 pm
immortalized) wrote2018-01-26 06:24 pm
up all night
texts
messages
tfln overflow
notes
letters
whatever you fancy
texts
messages
tfln overflow
notes
letters
whatever you fancy
texts
messages
tfln overflow
notes
letters
whatever you fancy
Does it count as a threesome still if 2 of them have stands who could theoretically join in
Kakyoin looked back over at Polnareff over the table. After a beat, when Polnareff didn't look away, Kakyoin's brows drew together. "What?"
"You just looked like you wanted to say something, Kakyoin..."
No one else at the dinner table was paying them much attention, except for Jotaro whose hat brim blocked his eyes and who could've been watching anything. Or nothing at all. Kakyoin's shoulders still went stiff and raised and he glanced at the others briefly, looking back at Polnareff with a final short huff of breath, like he'd just decided not to be bothered by it. Holy shit, what was going on? "No."
"You sure?" Polnareff's pretty loud. His teasing tone was enough to get a small glance from Avdol, even though he didn't stop speaking to Joseph. "Because you looked like you wanted to say something right about when that beautiful guy in the dress leaned in and kissed my ch—"
"You mean the one you harassed the other night? I was just surprised you got over yourself enough to play along." Huh. That's not the tone Polnareff was expecting to draw out — Kakyoin sounds almost angry, in a frayed way. Like broken glass. Polnareff frowns.
"I'm not playing along! He's really pretty." Maybe it's the light, but Kakyoin's cheeks look just a little more flushed than before. Polnareff leans an elbow on the table next to his drink. "And pretty good in bed," he adds with a wide grin.
Kakyoin makes a choked wheezing noise. Jotaro's shoulders round in, even if he doesn't look up. This time, it's Joseph that looks away from planning with Avdol though. "Polnareff, if you're going to chat up everyone in the bar, why don't you do it at the bar instead of in front of everyone here?"
"Fine, fine!" Polnareff gets up, tone put-upon, but his smile's quick to return. He winks at Kakyoin when the teenager still watches him as he gets up to leave. What's his problem tonight? Is he really worried that Polnareff's bothering to go harass someone? Not wanting to have the worst assumed of him, Polnareff makes a show of putting a friendly hand on Ambrose's shoulder when he catches up to him at the bar.
And when he goes in to kiss Ambrose on the mouth, he looks up and makes brief eye contact with a still-staring Kakyoin. That must be it, then. He's worried about the singer.
That's kinda sweet, actually.
***
Kakyoin gets to use the shower first that night in their shared room, mostly because he's the first one back in it. Polnareff's stretched across his bed when Kakyoin comes out of the bathroom, hair a few shades darker and plastered wetly to his forehead and neck.
"Finally back?" Kakyoin's voice is flatly teasing.
"What, waiting up for me? You're that worried about Ambrose, huh?" Kakyoin flinches minutely at the name, which is sort of interesting, because Polnareff sure as hell hasn't introduced them, and he'd never caught any announcements of singers' names before. Maybe Kakyoin's just more observant than he is.
"Considering Avdol had to pull you away from him when you first met—"
"Look, look, hey, I already apologized to him! Why've I got to apologize to you, too? I didn't call you a fa—"
Something about Kakyoin's stiffening shoulders, visible more in his pajamas than his school uniform, pings a primal instinct in Polnareff. Polnareff cuts himself off, and in the silence, Kakyoin only looks more coldly at him, a frown now firmly in place. "You didn't have to."
"...Oh."
Kakyoin moves on to towel-drying his hair, looking for all the world like he's successfully ignoring Polnareff. At least until Polnareff goes to walk past him to use the shower next and can see the slight gloss over his eyes. His expression doesn't even look like he's upset otherwise, how does he do that?
"Hey, you know I wasn't kidding about Ambrose being good in bed earlier, right?"
Kakyoin blinks the shine away and stares at Polnareff like he grew an extra head. A particularly ugly extra head. Polnareff scrambles to keep explaining himself, exasperated and concerned in equal measures. "Look, I was wrong, okay? There's nothing wrong with him being gay, or in a dress." Kakyoin's expression looks like it relaxes a bit. Maybe. Polnareff finds him hard to read when he does this -- goes all quiet and serious instead of being dryly engaging. With a smile to lighten the mood, Polnareff adds, "And we really are fucking, so you don't have to worry about being gay."
"I never said I was—"
"Nah, but you got all upset about that word, so—"
"It's not that simple. I don't just like men." This is more than Polnareff was expecting to hear admitted to him. The tension in the room went tangible again, but something in Polnareff's chest unwound despite it. After pinching in surprise, his relaxation into a smile was genuine. Kakyoin looked unbalanced by it.
"That's fine. Me neither. And I didn't know that til about a week ago, so don't worry about not having it figured out at seventeen—"
"I'm eighteen—"
"Whatever, you're fine. Okay?"
Kakyoin finally stopped arguing, fidgeting the towel between his hands until he seemed to notice and made an effort to stop. The sight was abruptly endearing, a warm fondness spreading across Polnareff's chest. "...Thank you, Polnareff."
"Yeah, yeah. This is weird, but at least we've got time to explore it a little between all the shit we've been through, right?" Polnareff turned to give Kakyoin one final smile before closing the bathroom door behind himself, but for the rest of his shower he couldn't quite forget the expression the teenager had had on his face when he did so: a soft, surprised look of being touched, and...
And a slight blush that brought his cheeks closer to the color of his hair. Jesus, maybe Polnareff was really getting too wrapped up in Ambrose's charm, if he was starting to see a similar attraction towards anyone else around him with a calm kindness.
He didn't bother taking a cold shower, though, just tried to focus on the idea of Ambrose's hands on him instead of slightly wider, confident palms.
***
Maybe it was supposed to lead here. Maybe that's what that conversation happened for — if Polnareff hadn't already know that Kakyoin liked guys, he might've hit the floor briefly when he walked into Ambrose's room and saw Kakyoin sitting on his bed next to the other man, smile soft and eyes attentive. They hadn't even been touching, but they were close, and Polnareff would like to think he can recognize nervous, verbal foreplay when he sees it.
"Oh." Is the first thing he can think of to say, in any language. Kakyoin startles so badly that the first thing out of his mouth isn't even in English, just a soft explanation that isn't even tailored to who he's giving it to.
Ambrose doesn't jump, but he does look over, and at least one of them is capable of coherency. 'Ton ami est très nerveux mais gentil, mon chevalier, nous sommes simplement en train de parler d—'
Now absolutely none of them are communicating in tandem for the others, and it's enough to startle a laugh out of Polnareff. "Look, the only reason I'm upset is because I wasn't invited." He means it to be reassuring, he's pretty sure, but Kakyoin bows his head.
"I should leave you two alone." His politeness sounds cold.
Polnareff frowns but Ambrose is quicker, one jeweled hand reaching out for Kakyoin's cheek to softly support him there. "Nonsense. There's room for conversations with both of you in my life. I have nothing but time."
"We don't, though." Kakyoin looks away from Ambrose with what appears to be great effort, staring at Polnareff instead. Polnareff feels the sudden draft that always hits him when he remembers their shared experience, their twin forehead scars from DIO's influence. "We don't have time. Not until we're finished."
'And I got here first, so he's trying to give this back to me.' Argumentative shame wells hot in Polnareff's gut. "Sounds like more reason to share."
That makes both of them look at him. Polnareff feels like he's in a Mexican standoff. "What?" He pushes past his slight nerves and smiles at both of them. "You think Ambrose came back to his room all dolled up just to get ignored by anyone?"
***
The reality is different from proposing it, though, and the unexpected additions keep taking Polnareff's breath away. Kakyoin and Ambrose have the most clothes left on after ten minutes of slow negotiating and figuring out how to all fit on Ambrose's full-size mattress; Polnareff is down to his briefs out of some desperate desire to let the others relax, but now that he's on Ambrose's left and looking over his seafoam-green dress, slit up one leg to just above his knee, he finds there's more than one reason to enjoy the others still being mostly-clothed.
Kakyoin, on Ambrose's other side, even has his damn school uniform still buttoned up there entire way, but Polnareff is more interested in watching what's actually happening — Ambrose tilting towards Kakyoin, a hand gentle on his cheek again, and guiding the younger man into a kiss. Polnareff watches and, as he watches, he sighs and leans forward. His front comes flush to Ambrose's other side, and he lets his mouth press against Ambrose's bare shoulder. He drags a few happy, exploring kisses across him until he's leaning so far forward across Ambrose's collarbone that his hair must tickle Kakyoin's nose, because the other pulls away with a soft noise of annoyance. Or laughter, sometimes it's hard to tell with Kakyoin.
"You're both alright with this?" He asks, and to his credit it's only the second time he's asking.
Polnareff still hasn't touched him more than lightly on his shoulder in encouragement earlier. Now, he dares to wrap an arm around Ambrose...and lets his fingers rest against Kakyoin's clothed arm. "Yeah." Which just leaves them both to look up at Ambrose from where they're respectively draped across him or leaning into him.
a jojorgy
It isn't that there hasn't been time to ask; their affair has been short and swift to develop, but between the heart-quickening flirting and the easily-escalating kisses, the intent for commitment has never been addressed. Ambrose couldn't begin to guess what this is fated to become, and the idea that he hadn't become so desperately entrenched in the desire for something concrete in these past few nights was startling to realize. Perhaps it's been the blindness that comes with the sheer, unmoored happiness it brought him — and perhaps it was due to the environment they were all sharing. With such a tireless focus on their ominous target, there was so little room to think of anything else until the nights could finally fall for them, where even rest wasn't always assured.
And when found, has been grasped for without more thought than necessary.
'I...don't know. You might have to ask him.' Ambrose could fall for Polnareff with ease, if they could be given more time and space to take things at a different pace — as it is, he can't know if it couldn't truly work, if a man (a vampire, at that) is something he would truly want for the long haul. It might even be misleading to suggest that Ambrose hasn't been more guarded since they began, open to the pleasure in both company and in bed, but careful to let his heart move in large leaps.
'Shame that I can't ask you.'
Ambrose would have questioned that, had he the time. The irony is, despite the astounding trajectory Polnareff has allowed this to careen into, Ambrose isn't sure that it fully answers Kakyoin's question; he's never even been in such a situation like this, not in life or in the life that has come after. Ambrose isn't fully decided that he is anyone's to 'share' but himself, but he wouldn't dream of tarnishing Polnareff's heart a the selfish sort of desire was in bloom. Right now, seated between the two of them, hands pressed on Kakyoin while Polnareff's are on himself, he still isn't sure what is established...
Except, that isn't entirely true. Some things are certain.
"Yes," is all Ambrose can answer with, when Polnareff confirms his stance. He can't know or say why their silver-haired friend has supplied this opportunity for them, for Kakyoin, but Ambrose doesn't not share the openness to it. It's a cooperation on all sides.
And shared desire.
"Please trust me." And Polnareff, perhaps, but it isn't necessarily Polnareff's choice to make. Ambrose isn't his to give to anyone — Ambrose owns himself. He has time, all of it in the world if he plays his cards well, but neither of these other men will have as much freedom in that as he has.
This...is a blessing of cooperation and mutual interest. This is as astounding and fleeting as a cosmological event — not impossible to occur, only rare and but for a night at a time.
And having them both, both for their interest, their affection, their time, and their attention — is more than he could have anticipated.
"And Jean-Pierre." Ambrose is pleased time think that these two traveling companions are coming together in this way, one extending this offer to the younger. Considering what Kakyoin had come to talk to him about, what they discussed together, it's heartening that Polnareff is selfless enough to create this environment for all of their individual gains. Polnareff is a good person, under the crackling vibrato, and Kakyoin has seen more of that than Ambrose has.
Ambrose leans in to kiss Kakyoin again, on the edge of his jaw now; there is little temperature to his mouth as he plants kisses against the thinly-veiled bone, down the side of his throat...following the alluring beckoning of his pulse. He hasn't any intentions — not to say there is no awareness and, therefore, no desire for what lies there in this thrumming carotid — except you lift one of these jeweled hands to politely pluck at the tightly-fastened button of his uniform collar. His approach is slow, gentle...but not shy, as he pinches one button free just below where his mouth draws admiringly against warm skin.
no subject
(He's less aware of his own faults, can't know them until they'll be pointed out to him later; for now, he's learning to work as a team and not just an optimistic but iron-willed loner who acts friendly until pushed.)
But right now he gets to watch Ambrose shower kisses on Kakyoin, the sort that suggest fondness even though they've just barely met. "You two get along even better than I thought you would," and perhaps there's a hint of jealousy in his tone, because Kakyoin's eyes squint open for a moment and he raises a brow at him, pointed.
"If you're feeling left out, perhaps you shouldn't just sit and watch." Bold words. Kakyoin's chest is moving fast enough that he's either anxious, aroused, or both. Polnareff wonders if he's ever as confident as he makes himself sound.
After his moment of surprise passes, he reaches forward with a small laugh. Ambrose continues working at the buttons of Kakyoin's stuffy school uniform as Polnareff kisses down the back of Ambrose's neck. He has to brush his hair out of the way; it's soft enough to seem surreal.
On impulse, he reaches over to card fingers through Kakyoin's hair next, and finds it just as soft, the texture a little finer.
"Do you need more help getting your shirt off?"
Kakyoin muffles his chuckle as he leans forward, tentative, and kisses Ambrose on the mouth.
no subject
His mouth finds Kakyoin's — the warmth is surprising, in fact it never isn't, even with Polnareff; there is a vibrancy to their mouths, pulsing almost imperceptibly with their hearts, enough to tempt the vampire to pinch his teeth into his own lip to keep from delightfully puncturing the other's. Ambrose flies blind as he sinks into the kiss, feeling a mouth at the back of his neck, while his hand heroically releases Kakyoin from the hold of these many fastenings. His knuckles graze over skin finally, soft but firm while laid over a sternum. It's nearly dizzying, being caught between two waves of sensation like this; Ambrose kisses with an awakening hunger until the lips on his neck trail just onto the threshold of his neck and back, where he gasps softly before loosening the pent-up energy in his chest with a chuckle.
"I suppose that suggests we're both Jean-Pierre's type, if we're so agreeable." Ambrose glances over Kakyoin's face, seeing a summery hue glow almost invisibly through his cheeks...and spots the certain transference of color onto his lips, more than the petal-colored bruising of blood pooling at a freshly-kisssed mouth. If he looks, he will find it at the side of the other man's throat, as well.
But where Ambrose's attention truly trails is down the narrow path down Kakyoin's front, now that the last button of his uniform is undone — and with the vaguest ministrations, that space opens further for him to expose ribs, navel, flanks, shoulders.
Polnareff isn't wrong; Kakyoin is always so chastely dressed, removing these heavy layers alone feels thrilling.
no subject
As someone else who's had his Stand since birth, some sort of fragment of Fate aligned with his will that he'd nurtured all alone until DIO, Polnareff can hardly imagining having a second, far more dangerous secret.
...Maybe he can cut Kakyoin some more slack, sometimes. (Nevermind that it's always Kakyoin yelling at him, anyway...)
Polnareff has no way of knowing that Ambrose shares his sentiment about seeing Kakyoin so slowly undressed; Polnareff's shared a room overnight with this guy, and he hasn't seen further than maybe a thumb's width past his collarbone. Watching Ambrose untuck his shirt, slow and attentive, is...sexy. And tender. Maybe those two intersect more than Polnareff really realized. A wave of something - fondness, arousal, the urge to do - hits him and he pulls away so that he can join Ambrose in more directly touching Kakyoin.
It pulls Kakyoin's attention, once he's finally away from Ambrose's mouth, as Ambrose watches down his torso. Polnareff leans in and Kakyoin's eyes widen before he very visibly relaxes, shoulders lowering even though he keeps his eyes open when they first kiss.
Polnareff's eyes close, because he's already made his decision, and now the trust comes naturally. Kakyoin is just slightly softer than Ambrose, wider with muscle in his shoulder that Polnareff touches and just a bit more pliant in his thin lips. Polnareff tugs the sleeve down past Kakyoin's left shoulder and Kakyoin shivers, and Polnareff makes a noise that's half-laugh, half-gasp.
"Don't you--"
"I'm not laughing at you!" Polnareff insists easily, glancing at Ambrose to back him up. "I just like sensitive people."
Kakyoin goes tch under his breath and cups a hand against his cheek, even though he turns to look at Ambrose instead. "Were you going to keep undressing me, Ambrose-san?"
no subject
He can hear the shifts in heart rates when words are perceived, and when their own reactions are weighed. Kakyoin is surprised by the kiss, but the change isn't too intense; the softening of his arms and core tells Ambrose as much while he works around him, and the shiver that sends the hairs on his skin standing is enough to pull the vampire in to plant a soothing kiss on one bared shoulder.
The playful ire has his painted lips bending with great amusement, plenty enough to have Ambrose pause and glance to watch the exchange with true fondness. When Kakyoin addresses him, so softly and politely as is so very custom to him, Ambrose is gently pulling the sleeves of his uniform down his arms to look at his wrists. "I certainly can, darling."
Though he realizes he isn't going at the same clip as Polnareff when he undressed for himself, and Ambrose sits up to look at Kakyoin. "My lack of urgency is no indicator of my hunger," Ambrose softly explains, curling in closer again, lips moments away from each other before he adds: "I hate to rush." And doesn't Polnareff know...it's a statement dense with layers of meanings.
In order to get Kakyoin fully unveiled...positions will have to be changed. Ambrose leans in a little more heavily, leaning his front against the younger man, not to loom, but to suggest...and to kiss him again. He tilts into Kakyoin, coaxing him to lay back on the bed; at this rate, Ambrose will be the most dressed out of the three, but given what he's wearing, that might not be a terrible thing — and Ambrose hardly minds donning his artful garments during sex.
He knows Polnareff enjoys it in particular, during this intimate sort of activity... There is a curiosity to learn if Kakyoin will feel similarly. When he tilts over him to lay him down, Ambrose's spine twists and the pull drags his skirt up his legs where the fabric is intentionally split, draping gratuitously down the back of his thigh. As someone who spends his time on display and being watched for what he does...Ambrose realizes he has an audience behind him, taking in everything he does, and everything he does with Kakyoin — it's an odd, but thrilling realization, foreign and intriguing, if not as tantalizing as a caress against his skin.
no subject
But then that got turned on its head by DIO, and then by his new group of sort-of-friends, and then by a man he'd literally just met even more recently than the rest. Ambrose is so bold against the social norms that at first, Kakyoin was afraid to approach him. Not because he didn't understand...but because he was afraid of what other people might think if they realized he did.
When he'd finally given it a chance and approached, spurred on by his brief talk with Polnareff, he'd been pleasantly but dizzyingly shocked.
Right now, Kakyoin's heart is beating fast enough against his ribs he's almost surprised it doesn't fly away. But the sensation of anxiety now is different than it's ever felt before. The two men with him, for very different reasons and in different ways, aren't leering at his weakness like birds of prey waiting to swoop. Ambrose is soft and cushions those parts of him, and Polnareff is a warm glow that keeps Kakyoin's nerves from freezing back over.
When they're both so engaging, so alive, how can he force himself to pretend he doesn't so desperately want connection with them?
Being stripped isn't just physical. Kakyoin isn't foolish enough to ignore that. And as he feels Ambrose press on his chest and only gradually realizes what he's implying, as he leans back until the bed sheets are what envelopes him from behind, he feels the vibrating shock of it hitting him. Too-tight. "S-sorry, just--" He's sitting up and now he feels his cheeks growing warmer. Polnareff says something ('Hey, it's fine, just take it easy--') but Kakyoin only spares him a moment's glance (he isn't angry, just confused, and there's an undeniable kindness in his eyes) before he looks at Ambrose.
As soon as he can sit up again, he feels like he can breathe. "I'd...like to do this part myself, I think." For them. For himself. He's reaching for the buckle of his belt, and then as he goes, he realizes that he wouldn't mind... "If we could lay on our sides...? Ambrose-san. Polnareff-san."
Polnareff's expressive face is watching him raptly, even while he's got fingers twining through Ambrose's hair and one hand out of view but almost certainly near the other man's clothed ass. "Yeah. Honestly it's probably more comfortable than whatever the fuck kind of stack we were about to end up in right now."
Kakyoin's smile is small and less sure than he'd like it, but it isn't forced. When he leans in against Ambrose's mouth again, he says softly enough for just them, "It's not a lack of trust for you...or your hunger. Just my own."
no subject
Whatever it is, Ambrose is still and attentive when Kakyoin stops to sit up again. He isn't fleeing, which is fortunate; when he sees the pang of something alarmed in the younger one's face, his mind returns to the conversation they had been holding before Polnareff's pleasant invasion. This convergence isn't a test — Kakyoin knows what he feels, but that alone isn't enough to prepare someone for engaging in something painfully delicate, in a woefully literal way. Ambrose knows that well enough himself.
He thinks that Polnareff must not know, and knows from there that it isn't his own place to change that. At a concerned loss, Ambrose waits while Kakyoin balances himself, setting his parameters...for continuing forward.
"It's all right," Ambrose murmurs, bolstering Kakyoin with a hand on his bare shoulder, not caressing or stimulating, only holding him while they sit. He sees the sharpness of his nerves and recognizes them, knows the brand of fear they're relative to. He can't know what Kakyoin hasn't told him, but more than see the anxiety...Ambrose sees the bravery and keenness to continue, and it's far more vibrant than anything else. Fear is a response, but that bravery is a piece of the younger man's entire identity.
He would kiss Kakyoin again, but instead Ambrose tilts in again, bending his back in a round arc instead of leaning in from the waist, bowing to plant a kiss on Kakyoin's shoulder while he begins to unbuckle his belt. "Take all of the time you need. We're here with you."
Ambrose feels Polnareff lay down behind him on the bed, his hand holding onto the side of his hip, not pulling with intention but strictly gravity. It's still enough to lure Ambrose back, to glide slowly down while he too drags his own hand down Kakyoin's bare arm. "Besides, I've been instructing Jean-Pierre in the virtues of patience." Not that Ambrose is a natural lewd tease, but skilled in double meanings of any genre, certainly. Ambrose's smile is kind...and rather amused as he settles down in the bed, his backside nestled comfortably against the man-in-question's front.
no subject
Both are willing. Both are so at-ease like this too, and for different reasons. Polnareff doesn't see the risk for what it is, has no idea what Kakyoin's fears are really like. And Ambrose...Kakyoin has known him an even shorter amount of time, but he seems like a man who has simply made peace with that lingering fear, who's embraced himself in the absence of anyone else to do it for him.
Kakyoin unclasps his belt and pulls it out, trousers unzippered shortly after. Thank god he already took his shoes off when he arrived in someone else's hotel room, or this would only be more awkward.
"Patience is okay, I guess." Polnareff says into the back of Ambrose's shoulder. Watching the happy, cat-like way he stretches into the space between them and rolls his hips lazily against Ambrose sends a thrill through Kakyoin's stomach, just as much as Ambrose's softer and pointed words did. "Still like what comes after the patience best, though." Said like a joke, like he's actually in on it this time and knows he's being ridiculous, and Kakyoin scoffs a laugh despite himself as he frees himself of his dress trousers.
Laying back down is natural, and then Kakyoin is the one facing the others, who are both facing him. Spooning each other. Not being the center of attention feels immediately better, and it's easier to breath as Kakyoin lays on his side to reach forward and touch Ambrose's hair.
Polnareff reaches over and interlinks their fingers instead, and it's so unexpectedly tender that Kakyoin's breath catches. "You look more relaxed." Which would usually be the kind of pointed observation that would make Kakyoin tense back up, but after a moment of surprise he makes the conscious effort to accept it for what it is. Apparently...Polnareff actually likes him like this.
"I'm not sure how I ended up with the two of you." Kakyoin sighs, and he presses closer to kiss Ambrose again, an act that's so soothing he can hardly believe this is the first day he's ever done it. "But I think I've discovered the only way to make Polnareff bearable is to ensure I'm not alone with him."
Kakyoin chuckles against Ambrose's mouth as Polnareff sputters with false offense behind him.